nothing to do with trayvon

all dogs go to heaven and all kisses start with spaghetti
the grass never itches and…

two to the floor, one back up again
hiccups and water rigged by the cops again
sweltering heat, upset again
and that tummy tumbles like the rest again
another disappointment,
what else were you expecting
again

im a kettle boiling for polly
pouring my oily fingers in my hair
laughing at the twists of justice in there
the oil rigs, the roots shooting clear
black crude into coffins
the clouds are coughing a fogging atmosphere
the storms are gathering in a glare on black faces
the idea of fair is quickly fading, they want war
justice for the blood, for the bombs, for the stares
justice in a hood, from the crooks, robbers here
justice from minutemen, lives measured in minutes
justice in inches
they say they want peace

everyone wants peace when the guns go off
before then they are polishing and at the ready
brushing the chamber, brewing the pot of pigs feet
eating the bacon, getting salty from some sweet shit
warming the grits to set on some slick song
praying to jesus that a motherfucker would slip
and say some shit wrong
like “lord, i wish a muthafucker would test me”

then muthafuckers get tested
and the bullet, that chamber, that pot
those greens, corn bread, watermelon
seeds and juice, kool-aid with sugar cane
some peach cobbler shoes
tap dancing mr bojangles fool
gets emptied

one clip into a nigga
two seeds into a nigga
watermelon man plays
jazz, scat scat scattered away
youth cocked on the cusp on a spring
dead in february, hand stiff
now dogs are hallering
whoodie who? hoodie whoooo
who did who?
who knows,
black folks, brown bags and grease
trayvon is deceased,
aint that some (clay davis) shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

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